bird flown away

Cherry

By Coolhermit

Sun, 26 Jul 2020
  • 446 reads
3 comments
 
 
 
we walked the windswept wildness
stepping onto swamp tussocks
to keep our feet from
stagnant water
 
as she laughed at the rain
strafing her face
running down her nose
onto the faintest fuzz
of moustache
 
an epiphany:
in that moment
a certainty...
 
I loved her
and had to come clean
about my indifference
and the ‘little white lies’
that had poured from me
so easily
 
she never stood with hands on hips
demanding more than I would give
 
she loved me -
enough for her -
 
but not for me
 
I looked into her lamb-black
innocent eyes, 'I’m sorry’
 
she put a finger to her lips
pointed out a hen harrier
wheeling, swooping,
cavorting, hunting
 
‘look, that is you’
 
“I’m sorry for splashing lager
all over your face
on the beach at Redcar
 
I’m sorry for dropping in
to say a quick, ‘I love you’
while on my way
to sleep with Aoife
 
I’m sorry for hassling
for the few lousy quid
you borrowed for a ‘Chinese’
and twenty cigarettes
 
I'm sorry your marriage died
when you told Archie
how much you loved me
 
I’m sorry for that France trip
I spoiled by saying
I would have preferred
to have gone with Aoife
 
I’m sorry for making
you abort the baby
you longed to mother
 
and the long black hairs
you picked off my pillow
and Aoife’s scratches
down my back”
 
she smiled
pointed out the hen harrier
still wheeling, swooping,
cavorting, hunting
 
‘look, that is you’
 
stepping onto swamp tussocks
to keep her feet from
stagnant water
 
she stalked the windswept wildness away
Certificate 15
Poem
Love

Comments

Submitted by Mark Burrow on

This is brilliant.

 

Submitted by Coolhermit on

A former preacher, I am by nature verbose - you know the thing, ask me the time and I'll tell you how a watch is made. So I'm endeavouring to distill my poetry - cut out flowery excessives, trim it to the bone but not too far ...

I'll stop now before I give out chapter and verse about how an alphabet is formed... smiley

Rick.

 

Submitted by Richard L. Prov... on

A great poem like landscapes of ocean sand dunes heaped up and down between tidal roars.

Richard L. Provencher